Radio Man
by Indigo Tantarian
Summary: WTNV: Carlos is not pleased with the course his life is taking, and there's nowhere to run. For an outsider who wants to survive in Night Vale, suspension of disbelief is necessary.
1. Chapter 1

Note: I am not a scientist like Carlos. I do brief Google searches on scientific things. Sorry. Also, there will be more of this, and the pace should pick up a bit in the future.

Until then, dear readers, welcome... and enjoy.

**Radio Man . 1**

I am writing this to gather my thoughts, to try to bring about some kind of order in this madness they call Night Vale.

This – this place is insane. There's no other word for it. Insane. Helicopters swooping all over, hooded figures lurking around… A forbidden dog park!? Really?

But the strangest part of this whole mess is the people of Night Vale. They're friendly enough. Well, some of them are. That old woman out by the car lot always smiles at me, and baked me cookies when I arrived.

To be clear, she was waiting at the door to my apartment when I moved in, holding the plate. She said she'd known I was coming. That the angels told her. I wasn't sure what to say to that, but she does seem very sweet, and the cookies were quite good. Gluten-free, she said. It's a shame how the mind deteriorates with age. I hope she has grandchildren, or a helpful neighbor, to look out for her.

You've got the odd ones who will stare with his eyes a little too wide, and speak just a little too loud, and afterwards you have to brush spit off your face… but that kind of person turns up anywhere, really. It's a small town. They're just a part of life.

And that… northern European man who dresses like an Indian chief from an old Western… I'm not sure what exactly he's going for, but he's not succeeding.

Still, this would be a fascinating environment for a psychologist. I saw something about a psychological association on a flyer at one point, but I can't imagine they're doing their job, if they even exist. I never spent much time in that field of study, but I have to admit I'm becoming intrigued.

The most interesting one has to be the radio host… I didn't catch his name at first, but he soon introduced himself as Cecil. With a long 'e.' The way I pronounced it when I was a boy, and had only ever read the word in books, before someone told me it wasn't pronounced that way. But his name is.

Anyway, this Cecil is on the radio at odd times, and I can't see any rhyme or reason to his show. He categorizes everything under normal headings, but then rambles on about monsters and horrors and impending doom… Or he plays a song. Or shares town gossip. Or humiliates me on air.

All right, I don't know what his problem is. Maybe it's a tradition, and he harasses every newcomer to town. He's barely acknowledged the existence of the rest of my lab team, though. The things he says… Openly mocking the way I look…

Well. I'm a grown man; a man of science. I am ABOVE such… childish games. I don't have to listen to that.

Except that I can't get the damn radio to turn off during his broadcasts. Not even when I unplug it.

And his voice… it's so hypnotic, so smooth and soothing. It always worms its way into my head, no matter how I try to ignore it.

I tried to just… just keep my head down and collect data. Soil samples, water samples, electromagnetic readings… Which are wholly fascinating themselves, and I could probably spend a lifetime researching these things alone. But there are so many unexplained lights in the sky, or in the earth, earthquakes, strange people that… that make me doubt their humanity… beings I can't… And whole periods of time that I can't remember, events lost to me forever…

I finally called a town meeting. The mayor wasn't hard to find, and she said I could do what I want as long as it didn't violate any of their laws or procedures. Sometimes, with all I've seen and heard, I'm not sure… but I haven't been taken by any of these hooded figures yet (ridiculous, really), so I managed to gather the town in the meeting hall.

For such a small town, their local news reporting is quite… extensive. There were reporters from the newspaper, the TV station, and of course, Cecil from the radio, sitting off to the left in the front row, his eyes never leaving me. From time to time he made a note. I wasn't trying to watch him, in fact quite the opposite, but he… I don't know, he's just one of those people who draws the attention of everyone in the room without even trying. I could have sworn his eyes changed color multiple times while I was speaking. Sometimes the shadows around him seemed to shift.

I should mention that I'm not much of a public speaker. I generally report my findings on paper, to avoid stumbling over my words and losing my place. But sometimes there's no way around it, and we all have to endure things we would rather not. Especially here. Still, with no one else here to document all these strange occurrences to the scientific community, it would be selfish of me not to perform extensive research on the single most scientifically interesting community in the US.

That's a phrase I used in the meeting. As I said, I'm not much of a speaker, but I was pleased with it.

And then Cecil, that… oh, I don't know what to call him. He made all these vague, menacing statements on the radio later that week. I think he's trying to drive me away. To scare me. Well it won't work. I'm onto his game, and I will not be intimidated. There might be all manner of terrors lurking in Night Vale, but I'll be damned if I'll let one weird guy bully me.

In the course of my investigations, I also discovered a house that seems to not actually exist. It looks perfectly normal on the outside, just like all the others in the Desert Creek subdivision. But it doesn't show up on any readings. None of our instruments can pick it up. Oh, it shows up in photographs. It's even tangible. But we tested it with the EMF meter and various EMF sensors, the electro static meter, ion counter, K-2 meter, thermal imager, UV meter, we even pulled out the sonar, just to see what would happen. Nothing. The one thing that DID detect something was the wind meter, which should have been absolutely silent when placed right up next to the building. But it read the wind blowing from the other side, and I could feel it on me, straight through the house. And the people who had come to gawk just nodded politely and wandered off.

I don't know what to make of any of this. The whole town goes against everything I know about our world.

It was my own fault for staying out in the sand wastes too long. All the seismic monitoring equipment was shrieking up a storm. The earth should have been leaping ten feet in the air, but it wasn't moving at all. I got so caught up in the anomaly that I didn't notice that it was getting dark. By the time I looked up, the stars were coming out.

On the drive back to my little apartment, the night darkened and Cecil came on the car radio (it won't pick up anything else anymore), and made some snide comment about submitting an insurance claim for the earthquakes that my equipment had been recording. I think he said something about my hair again, too. I was so mad, I could hardly see straight.

That's when the shapes started whizzing past me on both sides. Cars, I think. But going much faster than any car on the road. Their lights shone brightly as they sped this way and that around me. I jerked in surprise, pulling my feet off the pedals accidentally, and my car died. At first it wouldn't start back up, and I swear I had a minor heart attack as headlights came right at me. But finally the ignition caught. Ahead of me I could see the Arby's sign, the red-framed cowboy hat rising high into the night. And above that…

"Lights, seen in the sky above the Arby's," Cecil's deep, sonorous voice intoned, and I could feel the horror churning in my stomach as the lights above the sign swirled and pulsed. "Not the glowing sign of Arby's. Something higher, and beyond that. We know the difference. We've caught on to their game. We understand the 'lights above Arby's' game. Invaders from another world. Ladies and gentlemen, the future is here, and it's about a hundred feet above the Arby's."

That was the last straw. Science is my life, but I won't let it be my death. I made a sharp U-turn, driving straight through the spectral cars around me, panic rising, and roared off into the desert.

Try as I might to leave the lights behind, a phantom car would roar past me now and then. I couldn't see anyone driving them, but to be fair, I was trying to watch the road. The engine strained in protest, and the whole car began to shake. This job was supposed to pay for a new car, but I doubted that would ever happen at this point. On the radio, Cecil's voice seemed to be going in and out, as if rolling in a circle, far, then near, then far, over and over again.

The desert was dark, but at last I saw lights on the horizon. Almost drunk with relief, I headed straight for the city. I hadn't driven out that way before, but I thought it might be Desert Bluffs… Cecil's voice kept spinning near and far on the radio, like it was circling, like it was on a reel…

I almost didn't notice at first, but when I saw the Arby's sign and the lights above it, I slammed on the breaks so hard that if I hadn't been wearing my seat belt, I would have flown into the windshield. Again, I turned around and drove off into the night. The road must be a loop or… or something. But this time I watched the compass on my dashboard closely. The road kept true, and yet as soon as I had left Night Vale completely behind me, there it was in front of me again. For hours I tried to get out, getting more and more desperate.

Finally my car stopped accelerating, slowed, and then rolled to a stop, the fuel meter showing an empty tank. Right in front of me was the Arby's.

There was nothing else I could do. I pushed the car to the side of the road and trudged back to my little apartment.

In the morning we had a lot to discuss. One of my colleagues brought up the fact that the sun had not set at the appropriate time. I wasn't entirely surprised, though a part of me says that I should be. A young man was hanging around – he had a press tag that had 'JERRY' scribbled on it, and a Night Vale Radio pen… I ignored him. I couldn't decide whether I was furious or grateful that Cecil had sent his… minion… to do his dirty work. I am SO tired of that man.

However, my scientific duties led me back to him later in the afternoon. He does seem to be the town's hub of information. I was investigating the EMF detector. These are mainly used by the deluded, the superstitious, and the con artist to hunt 'ghosts,' but they do have actual, real-world uses in the scientific community as well. Particularly here.

I suppose saying it was odd is a moot point. But the numbers were all over the place, one minute zero, then off the charts, bouncing back and forth and everywhere in between. The strongest, most consistent readings, however, emanated from the radio station.

That didn't surprise me much.

When I came in, Cecil was in the booth with his big noise-cancelling headphones draped around his neck, leaning back in his chair. When he saw me, though, he quickly straightened up and gestured for me to come inside. I didn't want to. I don't have to put up with the likes of him. But the meter was beeping and whirring as it struggled to process all the data it was taking in, and I knew that, for the sake of science, I really had no choice.

"Carlos!" The radio host leaned forward, flushing slightly. "What brings you to our humble little broadcast station?" It wasn't his deep radio voice, but more rushed, more… eager, though for what, I couldn't say. He flashed an odd, sharp grin.

"I'm just here on business," I said curtly, keeping my tone as even as possible and not meeting his eyes.

"Oh come now! I'll get you some coffee, and when the weather's finished, you can stay for an interview!" His smile widened, and he leaned just a bit closer.

"No." Best to cut that kind of thing off as soon as it came up. "I'm testing for… materials." It was too complicated to explain in a hurry, and I wasn't about to get roped into an interview of any kind.

His face faltered a little, but then his smile returned. "That's an interesting contraption you've got there. Care to tell me about it?"

I could feel my forehead wrinkle up as I passed the meter quickly by the microphone. It chirped and squealed so loudly that I paused, then went back and held it closer. The closer I brought it, the closer Cecil leaned on the other side.

"That sounds just like a nest full of baby birds waking up," the other man said, his voice distant and dreamy.

I didn't know what to make of that. All I could do for a moment was swallow a couple of times.

"Y-you need to evacuate the building," I stammered, taking a shaky breath and stepping back. "It isn't safe here."

His smile turned just a touch smug. "But then who would be here to read the news?"

There's no arguing with those who will not hear. I took a second to gather myself, then immediately turned and walked out as fast as I could.

"Come back again some time," his smooth voice floated out after me. "Soon, I hope."

I spent that night looking for bus or train schedules online. There was a train that passed nearby, but it didn't stop. There were some very out-of-date bus schedules, and I have seen a bus station, even if I've never seen an actual bus coming or going… but there must be a way out of this place, and I will find it. I will NOT be consumed by the madness around me, nor will I give in to the threats of a… a radio man.


	2. Chapter 2

For an outsider who wants to survive in Night Vale, suspension of disbelief is necessary.

**Radio Man .. 2**

Only in Night Vale would a place like Radon Canyon be featured in a tourism campaign. Endorsed, of course, by the radio station. Typical.

I decided I needed to get out and meet more people in the community. It gets lonely, always being the outsider. A large part of the population is older. Still quite nice, of course. Josie, that nice old woman who always bakes cookies for me, invites me over to dinner sometimes. I think she's lonely too, and it feels… homey, somehow.

Except for the angels.

At first, when she set places for them at the table, I was embarrassed for her. But then they appeared and sat down. Beings of light, all kinds and colors of light, only vaguely human-shaped, and somehow immense while at the same time fitting neatly into Josie's chairs. They had eyes, so many eyes that I couldn't see, but I KNEW they were there, and they watched me and they watched EVERYTHING.

I tried to find excuses not to go back, but I think Josie is far sharper than I gave her credit for. Also, her angels are most definitely watching me. So I eat with them at least once a week. Often more. I almost hate to admit it, but it's become a constant in this bizarre world, and I'm grateful for that.

I thought the bowling alley would be a good place to unwind and meet people. The proprietor, though… he makes me nervous. He's one whose eyes stare a little too widely, but I'm not sure he really sees what's in front of his face. He's always muttering. I'll have to find a better social venue.

The… I hate to call him this, but I have no idea of what his real name is… so the 'Apache Tracker,' as he calls himself, met me outside and asked if I would smoke the peace pipe with him, to soar with the ancient spirits of his tribe. Seeing as any ancient spirits his tribe had were most likely the Norse gods, I politely declined. Not to mention, I don't know what might be in his 'peace pipe.'

Something I learned in college: NEVER use mind-altering substances with people you don't know and trust. It never ends well.

I stopped in Big Rico's to grab lunch, and of course Cecil was on the radio… I was shaking my head over something he said – something about bowing down to a glowing cloud – when I heard a short laugh beside me.

"Can't stand that radio, myself," said a tall, weathered man.

"It's absurd!" I agreed.

"He's always misquoting me, making me look bad," the older man scoffed. Then he stuck out his hand. "John Peters."

"…The farmer?" I supplied, unable to hide a smirk. "He does it to me too, I don't see why someone doesn't just take him off the air."

"Oh, we can't do that. It'd go against the rules," he chuckled.

We ate our lunch and talked. Here, finally, was a man in possession of some common sense. We talked mainly about the dangers of town. I talked about where I grew up, in the Badlands of South Dakota, listening to my grandparents tell stories of the Southwest, and of Mexico, where they had lived when times were better. How magical they made it sound.

"Well, is this magical enough for you?" John snorted.

"It's… not what I was expecting," I admitted.

"It never is." He frowned and finished his beer. "You expect a thing to be innocent… and when you get close, you find out it's actually sinister and dangerous."

"I guess so. Say, John, is there a good place to get a haircut around here?"

Telly does a good trim, I'll give him that. And I had hoped it would shut Cecil up about my hair. Unfortunately, that backfired. Now he's ranting about it. About my haircut, of all things. The haircut I asked for. For my own hair. None of anyone else's business. Making threats to Telly. I don't think… well, actually, I'm not sure what he's actually capable of. I would hope he would be stopped before he did anything dangerous, though.

…And just a few minutes later, he seemed… scared. Actually afraid. Station contract negotiations or something like that. That's a surprise, not only is he afraid of something, but he's not actually the one in charge down there! Serves him right. I'm sure they're just messing with him; trying to take him down a notch or two.

Good. He needs it.

Good.

I've never heard him even remotely unsure, though, much less… terrified.

It's none of my business. Just like my damn hair's none of HIS business. And I'm a scientist. Not a law enforcement officer or… I don't know, some kind of hero or something. I'm not here for that.

But still…

I did need to fill up my tank, so I drove out to the gas station on the other side of town. On the way back, I passed the radio station. The lights inside were dim, and I saw a silhouette walking from the building to the lone car parked outside. He was not thin or fat, not tall or short, and he moved slowly, like a sleepwalker.

Satisfied that the radio hosts's usual dramatics had not resulted in a murder, I headed back to the lab.

I managed to avoid him for a while after that. Kept my head down, got on with my work… I did attend a PTA meeting, though most of the attendees didn't seem to be parents OR teachers… Nor did they care that time wasn't functioning the way it should. I don't see why I bother. No one listens. No one cares.

"If you see something, say nothing," came Cecil's cheerful voice over the radio, though there was a flatness beneath it. "And drink to forget."

Frankly, with everything the people here see every day, I'm shocked they're not all raging alcoholics.

I had been avoiding the radio station and its host successfully for so long, but finally it reached the point where I felt I had reached an impasse, and would have to venture back there once more.

I've been studying Radon Canyon for a while now, and the lights there have me puzzled. Sometimes I can see them in the distance, but when I approach they go out. Or they… blink on and off. And I don't know what to make of the noises. It's frustrating. I needed more data, and since I can't call a town meeting every week for my own research, making a radio announcement was the next best option.

Of COURSE Cecil spent the entire time badgering me. I steadfastly ignored his teasing inquiries about my weekend or dinner plans. He did agree to make an announcement for me, though. And I spoke frankly to him. I told him just how sinister this all seemed, and that we could all be in real danger. No one seems to take that seriously here. They have to understand that the world they live in is NOT normal, that most people live in a safer environment. Cecil didn't quite seem convinced, but he did quiet down and look thoughtful when I confessed that I was scared for the town.

And you know, it actually prompted some calls. I listened afterwards, rolling my eyes as he built up to nearly yelling about the Glow Cloud… which I HAVE seen, by the way, and I assure you I'm going to begin studying it soon. Anyway, apparently the townspeople think the lights of Radon Canyon are the result of… a Pink Floyd Multimedia… Laser Spectacular.

I can't believe no one's taking this seriously. They're all going to drop dead any day now. And I told Cecil as much. He just asked what I was doing for dinner tonight. I hung up on him, because what else was I supposed to do?

Actually, I heated up some pizza rolls for dinner. They were dry on the outside and scalding on the inside, and not very satisfying.

The radio was still on, and Cecil was reporting something the City Council had told him. It was such an obvious cover-up that I wonder if it was actually covering up… their cover-up. I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore. I wonder if Cecil actually believes all the horrifying things he says. I used to think he was always lying, or at least stretching the truth… but I'm beginning to think maybe he's not.

There are so many things I didn't believe. But every day, more and more indisputable evidence presents itself. I have no choice but to believe what I see in front of me. And because of that, I feel that I have to stay here. I can't run away from this strange place. I have to discover all I can, and use what I learn to help those who have never known anything else, who live in constant fear of what lurks in the shadows. Maybe this, finally, is what I'm supposed to be doing with my life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Radio Man … 3**

I've been listening to the radio more. I swore not to, but it's hard to avoid. And there's always something new to investigate. I just wish it led to some scientific findings more often. Most of the time it seems to be more conspiracies just waiting to be uncovered.

And I still don't understand Cecil's view on all this. One minute he seems to realize just how dangerous this town is, and then a few minutes later he comes back from the weather and denies it, because someone told him everything was fine. Is he that naïve? Is he stupid? He doesn't seem stupid. Or is he just paid to calm the population down, and gets excited sometimes? Except that sometimes he works himself up over the silliest things. Wheat? Really? I have the sense not to ask him, of course. I don't believe he'd give me a straight answer anyway.

Once in a while, though, he'll say something that makes me think he's really processing things. Just the other day he found me in my lab and asked about Night Vale's inability to experience tectonic plate shifts.

It caught me off-guard, because he just showed up, and because I didn't think he was really listening back when I mentioned that. But he was waiting for a real answer, and for the life of me I couldn't string two words together. After a few seconds I had to give up and just shake my head at him. I don't know. I STILL don't know. I've been here in Night Vale for months now, and I feel like I haven't made a bit of progress. He asked me where I got my shirt, and made some kind of snide comment about it, and I told him I'd keep looking for answers. Just to get him out of my lab. I can't work when he's around.

Of course he went through the whole exchange during his show later. I didn't expect anything else.

He said he didn't know if I listen to him. I don't know where HE gets off saying things like that, especially when he… when he's always saying things like…

I don't know. Maybe I should forget it. It doesn't matter, anyway.

There was a big fireworks display at the Night Vale Harbor and Water Recreation Area, the one with absolutely no water. I made a joke that attendance was compulsory… and John Peters said yes, it was, and the Sheriff's Secret Police were spending the evening searching the town for anyone who had tried to stay away. But I had a drink with him, and then a few of the angels handed me more while I was talking to Josie. I didn't mean to have quite that much, but whenever I declined they just stared at me, with all their eyes.

I finally managed to get away, only to almost bump into Cecil. That excited grin spread over his face.

"Carlos!" His voice squeaked a little. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Don't you have any normal clothes?" I didn't mean to say that, but it slipped out anyway. He had on lightweight short purple and yellow striped pants, and a loose shirt over it covered in multicolored spirals that seemed to actually spin. One sock was long and argyle, and the other was shorter and covered in pictures of Christmas trees. He wore bright orange tennis shoes. And he had on a hat with long ear-flaps and three pompons on top.

He paused. "I have exactly what I need for my day to day life," he finally replied, his smile maybe just a fraction dimmer.

I just stood there blinking at him, feeling worse than I had in years. I should have apologized. I should have said something. To be fair, I did try. Only then my stomach heaved and I ran off to empty everything I'd eaten that day into the sand wastes.

It seemed pointless to stay after that, so I walked back to my apartment and went to bed. Cecil knocked on the door to the lab a few times, and called in asking if I was all right, but I rolled over and called out that this had better not be on the radio, ever. In the morning I found that he'd slipped his phone number under the door, with a note that read, 'Call me if you need anything.' I already had his number.

I tried extra hard to avoid Cecil over the next couple weeks, because God, I don't even know how to behave around people, apparently. I went back to studying the oddities of Night Vale's time instead.

I expected to hear some mention of my embarrassing behavior on the radio, but there was nothing. Hard to believe.

It wasn't long before I hit the illogical wall that Night Vale's conditions always presented. My lab team wasn't having any better luck. And all I could think to do was call Cecil, which I was not, under any circumstances, about to do.

When he picked up the phone, he acted like he didn't know who was calling, but of course he did. I stammered over his name – I don't know why. But I finally got it together and told him what was happening, that time was slowing down. It didn't seem QUITE as important when I said it out loud, and then all he said was, "Neat!"

Neat. I keep forgetting where I am. This is just… everyday life to him. He doesn't care about time. He's humoring me, or maybe teasing me again. I shouldn't have called. And he asked if I wanted to get together to talk about it more, and I can't stand the thought of that condescending look he'd give me.

I would have just let it drop, but the clocks… There isn't a single real clock in this whole town! OBVIOUSLY someone knows about time slowing down, and they're trying to hide it from the rest of the town. He was in the middle of a show, so I knew he couldn't pick up… that made it safer. But then someone came to the door…

I don't really know what happened after that. The next thing I remember was closing the door. I called Cecil again, because really, since I couldn't get ahold of him, it might just be better to meet in person. I can't really remember why I thought that was a good idea at the time.

We had coffee, and he gave me the phone numbers of the mayor and the police department – excuse me, the 'Sheriff's Secret Police.' Ha. And he kept leaning closer across the table, just watching me like he was taking everything in as slowly as he could. When he said something about my hair, I made my excuses and left.

Was that rude of me? I think it was. He's… strange, but that doesn't mean I can't be polite. I just don't know what to say around him.

I shouldn't treat him the way I do. Even if he teases me and makes me uncomfortable. I'm not doing any good acting this way. And I think it WOULD be better if I just left him alone. I have work to do, after all, and so does he.

When I heard about the sandstorm, my first instinct was to get somewhere with a good view to watch it approach. But I realized there wasn't time, which was probably a good thing, because within a few minutes it struck.

Cecil's voice washed over my lab as I made notes, and I only half-listened to him talk about sports, traffic (actual traffic for once!), and other town news. What he reported Josie saying was a little unsettling… not quite surprising, though. It's getting to be very hard to surprise me nowadays.

Then I had to hold back a snort of laughter when he switched to the cat video. It was so characteristic of him to fly back and forth between menacing horror and peppy enthusiasm.

Things got… strange after that. With his intern and the letter from Steve Carlsburg… And then he… he just walked through a vortex that opened in his wall? Who does that!? Who knows what's on the other side, or if there's a way back?

And then there was a different voice, not like Cecil at all. Younger and more… innocent-sounding. Kevin, the Voice of Desert Bluffs.

The observer in me noted a number of things he said. He commented on the radio equipment being older and… dryer than he was used to. Dryer? Who keeps wet radio equipment? He called out to a different intern. His vocabulary wasn't quite up to Cecil's standards, I noted with an odd little twinge of pride. A little strange, sure, but…

"…sitting right here on this odd and bloodless desk," the man suddenly said, and I swear my heart stopped for a moment.

Bloodless. Dry. So where he came from, his studio was covered in blood. Part of me said that was a stupid conclusion, but I knew in my gut it was right. As the weather began to play, I stood up. I had to make things right, if I could. Who knew what Cecil was battling while this gruesome man sat in his chair. I dug through my belongings until I found a long piece of cloth to wrap around my face, to protect it from the sandstorm. Then I began to search for a weapon, all while berating myself for being stupid, because I'm a scientist, not a fighter.

Just when I was ready to go over to the radio station and knock down the door, the song ended and Cecil's voice came tentatively over the air. I rushed back to my radio, sagging in relief. He was alive. He'd been attacked, and probably wasn't without injury, but he was basically fine, thank God.

From time to time, I've questioned whether Cecil was a liar. Maybe by choice, or maybe a compulsive liar, lying without meaning to or realizing it, without any reason. I mean, the things he says… Especially when I first arrived, I had a hard time believing him.

If I had any doubts remaining, the contrasts between him and that… Kevin… erased them. He tells the truth, I think. At least, to the extent that he's allowed by the City Council, the hooded figures, the Glow Cloud… I don't know who else. But when it doesn't involve political propaganda, I believe him.

He didn't speak of where he'd been, only the brief encounter with his double on the way back. But he was fine. That's what counts.

Plenty of other people weren't. Apparently their doubles from Desert Bluffs appeared and killed them. The scientist in me would love to visit the other town, to study similarities and differences. But the human being in me wants nothing than to stay far away from that blood-soaked place.

I wonder if I should call the station, just to be sure. Or even drive by. Just to...

No. That's ridiculous. I'm not going to do anything of the sort. He's a grown man, he can take care of himself. Besides, he sounded fine.

Okay, he sounded a little shaken. But who wouldn't be? I wonder what he saw there.

I'm going out there, to help clean up, and to see if I can help anyone… with anything.

I will not call Cecil.

But I'll make sure my phone's on and fully charged before I leave.


	4. Chapter 4

**Radio Man …. 4**

I said I wouldn't call Cecil, and I didn't. I was fully expecting him to call me, or to drop by, or appear behind me out on the street or… something.

But he didn't. I kept listening to his alternately cheerful and frightening radio voice. He didn't even mention me. Not that I WANT him to. God, no. My lab team still teases me about that. Now they're asking if we broke up. That kind of talk is best ignored.

There were plenty of other things to keep me busy, of course. The whispering forest that popped up out of nowhere, complimenting people and then… apparently… transforming them into trees. That was fascinating scientifically, although much like the rest of Night Vale, I'd be laughed out of any scientific circle where I tried to present my findings.

I still have dinner with Josie and her angels regularly. I ask now and then if she needs any help around the house, but apparently the angels do everything she needs. I guess I just don't feel like a contributing member of the community. Everyone here has their place. I don't really have anywhere I'm needed. I've been here for a year now, and I can't really say that I've made a difference in anyone's life.

I was at the bowling alley when it started. Josie invited me, because it was Jeremy Godfrey's 50th birthday. I've never spoken much to Jeremy, but… well, to be honest, I was lonely, and I needed to get out and be around people. I've avoided the place for a long time because of Teddy Williams's erratic behavior, and apparently it's gotten much worse. He's raised his own private militia, to defend Night Vale against the armies said to be rising from the city miles beneath the surface.

He was just working everyone up into a panic, and I couldn't take it anymore. I walked right up to the pin retrieval area where they were circling, and I said, "I'm going to put a stop to this. Someone has to. You're deranged!" Then I climbed down, ignoring the threats he shouted after me. I could hear his raving, mixed with confused cries from the others, and the faint sound of Cecil's voice on the radio. Knowing him, if I didn't get to the bottom of this, he would, and he'd release some… unspeakable horror. That just seems to be the kind of thing he does. It's ridiculous, and I can't believe he's so reckless. All for the sake of curiosity, and of reporting the news.

I guess that's not so different than my own motivations, really. Not entirely.

I reached the bottom of the pit much sooner than I expected. It was only about ten feet deep. I turned and looked over the spires and the buildings, which came just about to my knees. There were lights in many of the windows. In some courtyards I could see formations of tiny people. In others, even smaller denizens seemed to be chasing each other around. Playing.

The tallest angel, the black one (how does black light glow the way he does?) appeared beside me. I glanced at him, meeting a few of the eyes I couldn't see, and then we both looked back at the city.

"It isn't dangerous at all," I said softly. "Everyone up there is preparing for war with an enemy on equal footing."

The angel was looking at me.

"They'll decimate them," I said even more quietly.

The angel seemed to be waiting for something.

I turned and scrabbled back up the slope. Suddenly there was a pressure under my feet and the angel lifted me up so I could scramble back up to the surface easily. And I went out, and I brought them all back, everyone. Teddy Williams and his militia, Jeremy Godfrey, Josie and the rest of her angels… Everyone. It was cramped back there, but they all got a good look at the city. The windows were all lit up, and there was the faint sound of chanting and marching, and many people drew in their breath in fright.

I clambered back into the pit. The black angel was gone now, and I was alone with the tiny city and its denizens. I turned and looked up at the citizens of Night Vale.

Speeches were never my strong point. But a thought popped into my head: 'What would Cecil say?'

"Behold!" I called out, stretching out my arm and feeling silly. "This is NOT an enormous city miles below the Earth. It is a very SMALL city about ten FEET below the Earth, populated by tiny people who have had to spend a year slowly climbing the _ten feet_ to our world! We have nothing to fear," I said, smiling up at them with perfect confidence.

A good lesson to take from all this is to never turn your back on an enemy, even if they're only a fraction of the size of your finger. I was standing there feeling very pleased with myself when the attack came.

People always think of a 'fair fight' as being between two people of the same size and physical ability. That's not always the case.

As I stood there, I suddenly felt a prickle in the back of my neck, followed by surprisingly strong explosions at the backs of my knees and ankles, and then projectiles hitting my back as I fell to my knees. I suddenly felt dizzy and weak, and I collapsed on the ground.

As I came to again, the first thing I noticed was Cecil's voice on the radio. He sounded badly shaken up. I blinked the world into focus, and tried to look around. My neck was terribly sore. Most of me was, in fact. But I could just make out Teddy Williams bandaging my wounds while a number of other citizens looked on.

But beside me was the Apache Tracker, lying on his back, blood seeping out from him. It took me a few tries to gesture and finally to roughly articulate that he needed help.

Teddy Williams paused and shook his head sadly. "No helping him now," he mumbled. "Not even his Indian magics, he said." Then he stood up and walked away.

I heard him speak one last time, wishing I understood Russian. And then I watched him die. And the angels shrieked in tones that were somehow both beautiful and painful.

When I was able to walk, I staggered outside. No one stopped me. My clothes were still bloodstained, and I had to catch my breath when I got in the car. It just seemed like a mild case of shock, in addition to the weakness of blood loss and whatever they shot into my neck. I fumbled around in the back for a granola bar and a warm bottle of water, and I felt a little better.

The sky was darkening and the air was still, waiting, like the black angel beside the tiny city. I thought about going back to my apartment. I was both tired and restless.

But I couldn't go back. There was only one thing I wanted to do, and it was probably the strangest thought to ever enter my mind, and any other day I would probably dismiss it immediately.

I don't know if I was tired or still suffering from the effects of the darts shot into my neck. I pulled out my phone and typed a message. As I hit 'send,' a little shiver of dread and anticipation ran down my spine. But below that there was suddenly… calm. I gingerly changed into an old flannel shirt thrown in the back seat, and drove out across town.

The lights above the Arby's sign were moving in slow patterns. I parked and got out slowly to sit on the trunk and wait.

As the minutes wore on, I grew more and more nervous. This was a bad idea. Why on Earth would I do something like that? It wasn't like me at all.

Finally headlights approached, and Cecil parked nearby. He drove a low little silver car with black edging. He got out and hurried over, looking a little flustered.

"What is it?" he asked. "What danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored?"

He was so serious, a distant part of me noted. So willing to help. So eager to dive right into that mystery with me, even if it wasn't a mystery, but the most obvious thing in the world, to him.

"Nothing." I shook my head. "After… everything that happened…" I trailed off, not sure how to finish. Then I looked up into his eyes, those strange eyes that were a shining silver right now, but a minute later would be something entirely different. "I just wanted to see you."

And it wasn't quite what I intended to say, but it was what I meant, and it was _right_.

Cecil froze, watching me, his eyes losing their shine but becoming far more focused. "Oh?" he murmured tremulously.

If I looked him in the eyes any longer I would lose my nerve, so I looked up at the splashes of color across the sky as the sun set, and at the lights dancing over the Arby's.

"I used to think it was setting at the wrong time, but then I realized that time doesn't work in Night Vale, and that none of the clocks are real. Sometimes things seem so strange, or _malevolent_, and then you find that underneath, it was something else altogether. Something pure, and innocent."

So many things here had been that way. The angels. The strange lights. The voice on the radio…

"I know what you mean," he offered, with a small smile. I smiled back at him, and it felt like everything was… okay.

Cecil climbed up to sit next to me. Neither of us spoke, we just sat and looked up at the sky. I'd never seen it so beautiful.

I don't really remember when I put my hand on his knee. It was just suddenly there, and it felt warm and solid and REAL, so I kept it there.

Not long after, Cecil scooted a little closer and gingerly rested his head on my shoulder. I could feel him against me, trembling and tense. I exhaled and shifted just a little closer, because at this point, why not? And he relaxed, and we sat that way for – I don't know how long. And I thought for a second that his show was probably still going, and he might need to get back, but he'd be well aware of that, and there are no real clocks here, and time doesn't work anyway, so really, there was no need to rush off anywhere.

When we did leave, it was because Cecil noticed my legs twitching with stiffness and pain. He asked if he could help, but I said I'd be fine. We eased off the car, and his arm hovered by mine, ready to catch me if I faltered.

"Look, I… about before… I'm sorry for how I… acted towards you. It wasn't fair. I like you, I just can't… I don't speak as well as you do, Cecil."

A smile illuminated his face. "What did you say?" His voice squeaked a little at the end.

I could feel a blush tingling through my face. "I don't…"

"You like me?" he cut in with barely-contained excitement.

That was another of those things that just… came out without my really meaning to let it. Too late to deny it now. I shrugged and nodded. "Well, yeah."

I swear his eyes started to glow. Maybe his whole face, or maybe that was the reflection of the lights in the sky.

"Carlos," he squeaked. "That's…" He took a step closer and squeezed my hand, tightly. Maybe it pinched a nerve or something, because I suddenly got a nasty twinge in my neck, and flinched.

His eyes darkened in concern. "You're still injured, you need to rest. Can you – Do you want me to drive you home? Make you something to eat? Guard all night against the horrors that creep in the dark?"

"No, I'm fine, just… I just need to rest. I'm fine, really."

"Should I follow you in my car, maybe?" he asked anxiously. "Just to make sure you get home okay?"

"No, I'm really okay, Cecil. Go home. I'll be fine."

"Ah – are you sure?"

"I promise."

He hesitated, wavered where he stood. Then, more quietly, he admitted, "I was afraid today, Carlos. Afraid that… they told me… I thought you were… dead, there in that cursed pit beneath lane five."

The thought had crossed my mind as well. I guess that's the reason I wanted to meet him. If I had died today, I wouldn't be satisfied with where I'd left my life.

"I'm fine," I said again. "Just… very tired. Goodnight, Cecil."

A deep, warm smile formed on his face as I got into my car. "Goodnight. My dear, _sweet_ Carlos… Goodnight."

There are a lot of things about Night Vale that I will never understand. But I'm beginning to see that that's all right, because there are things here that I do understand now, and there is nothing better than what is here in this place, right now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Radio Man ….. 5**

After that night sitting in the Arby's parking lot, I didn't expect anything to be the same. I was hoping things would be easy then. Of course they weren't. I don't know why I thought that.

It took me a couple weeks to work up the nerve, but eventually I did it. I called Cecil.

I mean, I had called him before that, too. To ask him to make an announcement about the strange holes appearing in walls… that they were dangerous, and should not, under ANY circumstances, be entered.

But this time I… well we seemed to have formed a pattern whenever I call. Cecil gets excited, and I tell him I'm not calling for personal reasons, just to get him to calm down… but this time I was, and I told him so. And quickly followed it up by warning him about the strange energy source approaching town.

"Right, no lights, I'll let my listeners know," Cecil said hurriedly. "But… personal reasons, you said?"

"Uh… I… Cecil, do you… um… do you know any good places to… to go… to have dinner?"

I remember shying away from any class in which public speaking made up more than ¼ of the grade, back in school. Now I wish I had pushed myself a little harder. Maybe I'd be in better shape now.

"Oh sure, there's Gino's!" Cecil replied, chipper as ever. "If you like Italian. Do you?"

"Oh? Um. Sure. I… yeah, that's… that'd be fine, I…"

"If you want, I can pick you up! Let's say 6:00?"

"I'll… I can just meet you there. It's not far."

"Of course, if you'd rather. Meet me in Old Town. That little park with the statue commemorating the survivors of the Six Years Plague, have you seen it?"

"I think so. The man and woman holding up a rotting child between them?"

"Yes, although actually they're fighting over the child's corpse. Food was scarce in those days. But you'll be there? At six?"

"Uh… yeah. I mean, yes. I'll meet you there."

The thrill of nervous anticipation rose up in me, and only intensified over the course of the day. I tried to busy myself with lab work and data collection, but I kept reviewing the conversation on the phone – I really don't think it could have been any worse – and potential conversations in the future. I can think of decent things to say until I'm placed in situations where I need to say them. It must be nice to always know what to say.

What do people wear on dates? I – I actually haven't dated – not really – since college. And even then, not much. I was more focused on studying. I think dating in high school, in college, and as an adult, are all completely different levels of social awkwardness. By the time a person reaches my age, isn't he supposed to have all that behind him? Either because he's been successful or… or not? That's what I always thought.

I didn't even bring any… 'date clothes' with me. I have slacks, those will do, won't they? That shirt he said he liked. And some shoes that aren't too scuffed because I haven't worn them much because they pinch my toes. Dressing up isn't supposed to be comfortable, though, is it?

Looking at myself in the mirror, though, I looked awfully casual. Even after combing my hair. I thought of putting a light jacket over the shirt, but all I had was a terrible gray and fluorescent yellow windbreaker. Definitely not the impression I was going for. Or a lab coat.

I dug in the back of the closet and pulled out a lab coat I hadn't worn in ages. I had tried dying it dark blue once, but I must have skipped a step, because it came out oddly mottled. The top portion was pretty solid, though, and it honestly looked better than anything else I owned. It would have to do. I slipped it on, making a mental note to find some decent casual clothes.

Old Town Night Vale isn't too far from my apartment, and it wasn't terribly hot out, so I decided to walk. Mainly to work out some nerves. And it helped. By the time I got to the grisly statue, my heart had slowed a bit and I could breathe normally.

Cecil was already there, and his face lit up as he walked over. He wore a deep purple tunic covered in colorful patterns, and shimmering golden furry pants. His low boots seemed to be covered in thick gray scales.

"Carlos! You're here! Did you walk?"

I nodded, and his smile deepened.

"What a good decision! Healthy and good for the environment. I love to walk! I walk all the time. Are you hungry? Gino's is just down the block. We can walk there."

He put his arm through mine and it took a minute to match strides – I have shorter legs but I tend to walk very fast, and he just strolls along. But we walked to Gino's, and it was awkward but nice. Even with the odd blotch of darkness buzzing on the horizon. Not quite a cloud.

The instant we walked in, we were suddenly sitting in a little room with no doors. I looked around in alarm, but Cecil just grinned.

"The service here is excellent."

He showed me how to order, whispering into the sweetener packets. We both examined our menus. Most of the entries were blacked out.

"I often get the portabella mushroom," Cecil said, his eyes an emerald green now. "It's quite good."

"Okay," I agreed, and we both placed our orders into the Sweet-and-Low. A waiter appeared from somewhere and brought a bottle of wine that I assume by Cecil's grin that he had ordered. It was dark red and sweet.

"That's a beautiful lab coat you've chosen for tonight," Cecil almost purred, leaning in a little. "I especially like the gradient patterns around the bottom."

"Oh, that… it was just… thanks," I finally mumbled, giving up. "I, um… your pants are… nice… but aren't they a little warm?"

"Not at all, they're my favorite article of evening dress! It can get a bit chilly at night, you know."

"I've noticed that, yes. Typical of the desert environment."

He had that odd little smile on his face, and our food arrived. It wasn't quite what I expected. I was thinking of something sautéed, maybe over rice or pasta. Instead we were each served a large raw mushroom covered in blood. I was hesitant, but Cecil made a little noise of appreciation and began cutting off bits and popping them in his mouth, so I reluctantly cut a little piece off to try. It was strange. But surprisingly, not as bad as I expected. We ate and sipped in silence for a minute, and it was nice, but I could have a silent dinner any day.

"I've been thinking," I burst out.

"Uh-huh?" Cecil always looks like he's hanging on my every word. It's kind of intimidating. I had to look away.

"Yeah… that's what I've been doing lately. Thinking. It's part of being a scientist." Well now that I've managed to sound both stupid and condescending… "What have you been up to?"

Cecil always seems to… blossom when he talks. Before we met in person, I thought he might be the kind of person who sounds good, but can't carry it off in person. But if anything, he's even more fascinating and engaging in the flesh. His face is so expressive, and he's full of gestures and body language. He's like… movement personified. He so rarely stays still.

I began to notice that he was speaking quickly and glancing to the side a lot, and I realized he was nervous. Cecil! Imagine that! We both feared the same thing, and I don't think we really had anything to worry about all along.

Under the table his feet jiggled and tapped and shook. I tentatively stuck out one of my own, and his immediately crashed into it. He froze, looking uncertain, and I smiled. He smiled back, and it was so warm and all-encompassing that I found I didn't want to see anything else in the world.

We talked long past the point when we finished our mushrooms – which were surprisingly filling. We even ordered dessert, which I don't normally do, but well… I'm doing a lot of things lately that I don't normally do. And it seems to be working out for me. So we had the invisible carrot cake, which I swear was a plate of nothing, but Cecil acted like he was enjoying it, so I played along.

He talked about his work, about the interns, and Station Management, and Khoshekh the floating cat in the men's room. I talked about my work, my experiments and findings, and my lab team. I didn't mention that they'd been increasingly insistent about setting a date to leave Night Vale. I kept pushing the topic aside when they brought it up. I don't want to think about what will happen when our funding runs out.

I like it here, I had begun to realize. As terrifying and strange as it is, I like it. I'm starting to feel at home.

And we talked about Night Vale, and I could see just how much Cecil LOVES this place. His love for Night Vale is deep and old and unshakable. And I'm starting to understand why.

When the waiter came to take our check, he had turned into a buzzing shadow-man, and I wasn't even surprised. Cecil insisted on paying, no matter how much I argued, and then we escaped by breaking the window with a brick and jumping out, laughing as we ran down the street. We came to a park full of people pointing up at the sky and screaming in terror. Cecil asked if I wanted to join in, but I can't say the idea appealed to me.

"If you want," I offered, "we could do some tests on the trees. I've been meaning to do some scientific tests on the trees. They seem normal, but given all that I've observed in this town, it is a significant chance that they are not."

It sounded like a lame idea for a date, but Cecil was excited, so we went over to a large old pine tree. I just did some basic tests, nothing that really needed explaining. Cecil watched intently as I measured the circumference of the trunk, took bark and needle samples, and examined the tree for parasites. The most interesting part was taking a small sample to examine growth rings. There didn't seem to be any, and yet the tree was obviously old. While I was carefully extracting the segment of trunk, Cecil reached down and stroked my cheek. Maybe I had something on it. Or maybe… he just wanted to. He said something, but the buzzing from around us was growing louder.

"What?" I asked, looking up.

"I was just saying that your hair looks especially perfect today."

I didn't know how to react. I never do. So I just stared at him for a minute before asking, "Why do you say things like that?"

"Because it's true! Your hair is beautiful – shining and luxurious, thick and magnificent… It caught my eye from the moment I first laid eyes on you. It's especially perfect when combined with the rest of you. I hope you aren't considering getting it shorn again…" His smile fell.

"I… no, I'm… Cecil, I'm NOT perfect!" I finally burst out, standing up. "I'm… average, at best! Mediocre! Put me next to anyone else, and I usually make them look better. I've never been attractive, and I'm certainly not perfect! I don't know why you keep saying that!"

He stared at me, and under the adoration, I think there was genuine confusion. "But you are. Don't you have a mirror in your apartment? It's really a good investment. Your hair is so soft and warm, and it has a shape all its own, almost a LIFE to it. You may want to keep an eye on that, because it would be a tragedy if it were to run off on its own. Night Vale is not a good place for such gorgeous hair to be wandering around alone."

"It's going gray." I rolled my eyes, but he continued.

"If anything, that improves it. And your eyes are like black coffee – the good kind, that smells so wonderful and can warm you and give you the energy to face the day's unspeakable horrors."

"Bloodshot and leaving dark circles underneath. Sounds like Night Vale coffee," I muttered, not really in the mood to hear this.

His fingers just lightly brushed my face next to my right eye, just below my glasses. "Because you worry too much," he said softly. "You care, and that makes you even more perfect. You miss out on sleep, you strain too hard, because you need to KNOW." His smile increased. "And your skin, your delicate, perfect, dark skin…"

"…Is covered in scars and scrapes, dirt, sweat, chemical burns, spots, hairs, birth marks…" I began to list, pointing to a few that weren't covered by clothing.

Cecil's hand didn't quite grab mine, but hovered over it, pressing just lightly on the back of my hand. "Proving your dedication. If you had none of that, I could only conclude that you didn't care much about your job, and if that didn't matter to you, then what would, hm?"

"Not all of it."

He grinned and rubbed lightly at the dark hair covering my wrist. "And of course, the rest is just a small part of your perfection."

I gestured hopelessly down at myself. I've never been model-quality, or athletic, or even just okay. "I'm not, Cecil. You don't have to say that. I know what I look like. I'm… I'm okay with it. It's just how I am." I self-consciously rubbed at the dark birthmark on the side of my face, which I always tried to keep covered, but which was always peeking out from under my hair somehow.

He looked at me then, the grin fading from his face. Critical, deep gold eyes ran from the top of my frizzy hair to the bottom of my now-dusty shoes, with a little tear in the left one from jumping through the window at Gino's, still pinching my feet terribly.

"I know what you look like, too," he said with a quiet sincerity I rarely heart from him. "My perfect, beautiful Carlos. You do beautiful things, and that is what makes you beautiful. More beautiful every day, as you fight to protect our little town from each new horror that approaches from above or below." Then a small smile grew slowly on his face. "But from the moment I first say you, before I knew all this, all I saw was perfection and beauty, from your hair, your face, your body, that glorious smile, like the stars coming out through the sunset."

I know I've never blushed so hard in my life. What… what could I say to that? He meant it. All this time, when I thought he was teasing me, he meant every word. I felt like the ground had fallen out from under me, but I wasn't falling.

He offered to drive me home, and I accepted in kind of a daze. I think I would have accepted anything from him right then. It wasn't a long drive, but the town was full of buzzing shadow creatures that I vaguely realized I would have to do something about.

When he stopped the car outside my lab, we sat in awkward silence for a few seconds.

"Well, this is me." I pointed weakly to my lab.

"Uh-huh."

"I should probably do something about this buzzing shadow-thing. A few experiments to see if I can save the town."

"Oh? Do you need any help with that?"

"No." It came out without a thought. "A scientist is self-reliant. That's the first thing a scientist is."

"Oh." He had grown quieter, with maybe a hint of sadness in his voice. That, on top of the whole beautiful, PERFECT night, was just too much to resist. I leaned over and I kissed him. I'm amazed that I managed to hit the right spot, actually. I think we were both surprised, but it was soft and warm and tasted of carrot cake.

I could have gone either way at that point, and a part of me wanted to taste every bit of him right then and there, but instead I slipped out of the car and into my lab, unable to stop smiling.

And I managed to get rid of the shadow-thing, which was actually caused by a swarm of miniature flying jellyfish getting caught in the dryer ducts at the laundromat. Quite a success, if I do say so myself, but far from the highlight of my day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Radio Man … 6**

I received a letter yesterday from my parents, clearly responding to something I'd written them. Except I haven't written then anything. So I decided it was time to write them a long letter. I feel like this may cause a time paradox, but on the other hand, it may cause a paradox if I don't at this point. I would rather be damned by my actions than my inaction.

I'm not sure if I should be disturbed by the fact that things in Night Vale hardly surprise me anymore. For example, the fact that an entire subway network popped up literally overnight. There's one not far from my lab. The Big Rico's station. I've looked down the well-lit stairwells, but I haven't gone inside. I asked Cecil, and he asked his sources, none of whom had any idea of its origin.

There are brochures – which only makes sense, since the subway has everything else. Why not an advertising campaign too? Why not? 'Commute with ease!' they say, and 'Sate your hunger!' I'm not sure about that last one. 'Oh the place you will go!' 'The time you will travel!' 'The times you will travel!'

I don't like the sound of this at all.

Also, I received a box in the mail today. A small box with no return address, but the postage paid and a very official-looking label of my address. Inside was a small plastic jar labeled, 'DROWNING ALONE IN THE DESERT' in neat script. I didn't open it, but carefully placed it high on a shelf. Cecil says some mysterious company has been sending out emotions by mail. He asked if I'd like to share it with him, and in return he'd share 'BLOOD FEUD.' I said I'd rather not, but when I get around to analyzing the emotion, I'll invite him over if he wants. He was delighted.

No one I've gone out with in the past has been so enthusiastic about my work. Some of them have been too wrapped up in their own research. The rest were not scientists.

Cecil isn't a scientist, but he's definitely interested. Probably only because it's MY work, but it's still flattering.

But back to the subway. When people started getting off, they were… different. Changed. Cecil texted me (I swear he knows about things before they happen), and I immediately went to investigate.

There is no reason on Earth why a subway, even one that spontaneously appeared without any explanation, should completely drain a person's DNA. But I think that's exactly what happened. To some people, anyway. I tested hair, skin samples, fingernails, saliva, and blood from a number of riders.

Sometimes when I run tests here, I feel like there's nothing I can report to anyone outside. I'd be denounced as a quack. That's why my funding won't be renewed. But they're not here, and they haven't seen the things I have.

That's why I have to stay.

That's the thing – there's only me here. I think I'm the only one who understands how the world is SUPPOSED to work. The world outside Night Vale, anyway. So I'm the only one who can do something when things like this start happening. No one else seems to care about time slowing down, or subways popping up out of nowhere, or everyone being taken over by a buzzing shadow creature.

I went back to my lab, to organize my data and run some further tests. Of course I had the radio on while I worked, because I always do. Not to mention all the equipment I keep running to monitor the constant earthquakes that no one feels and the temporal instabilities that no one acknowledges.

I wonder if there's a connection.

God, why did it take me this long? There's ALWAYS a connection. Everything in the world affects everything else, and –

No, everything in the NORMAL world does. Night Vale is different.

Still…

When Cecil told the town about the spontaneous subway, I listened intently, hoping for a little more to go on. He just articulates things so well that it… helps, sometimes, to listen to him. It quiets my mind and helps me sort out my thoughts.

…And he went to the subway, of COURSE he went, even though he KNOWS what happens to people IF they come out. Even though his latest intern disappeared in there.

As soon as I heard, I took off running.

Cecil is a grown man. He is intelligent and competent, and he knows Night Vale better than anyone else, I suspect. He is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. I thought of this as I was racing down the stairs into the subway station. It was full of oddly-marked cockroaches. It didn't occur to me until I had trampled dozens of them – _What if these are the people who never got off the subway?_

That was not a scientific thought, but my mind has begun to swing towards the fantastical and the grotesque, and often that's more accurate here than the scientific.

My memory's a little hazy after that, but someone stopped me… a man, I think, in some kind of tan jacket. He said something – I think we had a whole conversation. Then he led me through a locked door, down endless dark tunnels to a control room of some kind. There were panels full of buttons and switches and knobs. There was a wall of monitors, all showing the subway: Various entrances, and the passengers in the cars. It only took me a minute to find Cecil, who was standing slumped against a pole. Every time he or someone near him moved, it was sped up as if I were fast-forwarding a video tape.

The man was gone when I looked back, so I examined the room on my own. There was a large switch marked 'EMERGENCY SHUT-OFF.' I carefully pushed it down and there was a screeching sound. The whole room shook. On the screens, some passengers started milling about in confusion. Others didn't move. Cecil looked up, disoriented.

There was a switch marked 'EMERGENCY DOOR OPEN' that appeared to open every subway car door, and I watched people begin to leave.

Looking back at the switches, I felt sick suddenly. The next person who came in could just as easily start everything up again.

Not while I'm here.

If I were a computer programmer, I'd release terrible viruses into the whole system. If I were a microbiologist I would lace the spores of deadly fungi and bacteria all over the room, to eventually destroy the whole place.

But I am a physicist, and so I took great care in using kinetic energy to cause matter to come into contact with other matter. Hard.

All the way out, through the dark, twisting tunnels, I could hear groaning and creaking, crashing and crumbling and angry wailing. I thought vaguely that I might die here, but I've grown disturbingly used to that idea. And at least my last act would have helped Night Vale. Helped Cecil.

The sun was blinding as I raced up the stairs two at a time. I staggered to lean on the firm, solid wall of my lab to catch my breath. I swear I felt the Earth shake for a moment, but it was just a muscle memory.

When I got back in and managed to drink some water, Cecil was back on the radio. He sounded distant somehow, as if he was thinking of something else. And I thought I should go to him. It just seemed like the right thing to do. If I keep making decisions like this based on my gut instinct, my funding's going to be pulled one of these days.

I drove, and only had to wait a few minutes before he emerged and turned shakily to fumble with the keys.

I don't know what I was planning to do. If I were good at this kind of thing, I'd jump out of my car and wrap my arms around him and say something to make everything seem safe and all right.

Instead I just sat in my car fiddling with the seat belt, craning my neck and wondering if I should get out. When Cecil saw me he hurried over with a bright, brittle smile. I stretched over and cranked down the window as far as it would go.

"Are you… Do you want to get some ice cream?"

I think I'm ridiculous, but Cecil's smile grew, and he got in, still trembling a little. "That sounds perfect," he said quietly.

So we went and got ice cream. I had butter pecan and red pepper-chocolate, which sounded a little exotic, but was nothing compared to Cecil's chamomile-cherry and honey mandrake. We ate at a table next to the shop, looking out over the shimmering mirages of the sand wastes. Shapes moved across the sand, and soft wails came from everywhere. Cecil was quieter than usual, and now and then his foot bumped mine, or his fingers would brush across my arm. At first I avoided his gaze, but finally I took a breath, looked him in the eyes, and grasped his free hand with mine. Immediately he squeezed tightly, his eyes brimming with time.

Asking what was wrong would be stupid. So would asking if he was okay. I sat there frozen like an idiot for far longer than was appropriate.

"Thank you for coming." Cecil sounded uncharacteristically quiet and raspy. "You didn't have to."

"I – No, I… of course. I wanted to. After… years, Cecil? Really?"

"And only a few minutes for you?"

I didn't know what else to do but nod. He sighed and looked down.

And I didn't even realize until I was almost touching him, but I leaned forward and kissed him, because he looked so lost and alone. At first he was surprised, but he quickly melted into the motion, still quaking slightly. It was long and slow and sweet and creamy. When I pulled away we were both pretty red.

"Well, I… I'm glad you're back. And, you know, alive and safe," I mumbled.

"I'm… I – I didn't think I'd see you again."

"Why did you go in the first place? You knew it was dangerous."

Cecil nodded miserably.

"What if you'd never escaped? What if – I mean, ARE you okay? Were you hurt?"

He shook his head. "It was just a long time. It's… it's just something I had to do. I couldn't leave it uninvestigated. You know?" He looked up at me hopefully.

For just a second, I was numb and angry and afraid. But just a hint of a smile rose into his eyes, and I felt like my heart was actually swelling, that there was so much… affection there that I would never have room enough for all of it.

And I could have just kept that inside and been content, but instead I squeezed his hand and said, "Cecil, I really like you."

He stared wide-eyed at me, a blush deepening across his face. "Why Carlos… I really like you too!"

"Uh. I mean, I… You just have to be more careful. It's… I know it's… I mean of course you want to find out all you can. I know. But… I… I care about you, you know?" I don't dare think how red my face was at this point. "I like you. I don't want anything to happen to you."

He laced his fingers through mine, his thumb rubbing gently on my hand. "I promise you I'll be as careful as possible," he said softly. "If you'll do the same."

I smiled, running my thumb along his. "Deal."


	7. Chapter 7

Radio Man …... 7

One of the most frustrating thoughts early in my career was that there is always more to learn. No matter how much you study and research and observe, you can NEVER learn everything.

That's become my favorite thing about my job.

One day I looked out the lab window, which I don't do nearly enough... and there was a mountain. An honest-to-God mountain, right out in the sand wastes. Except there seemed to be a floodplain there now. There was some kind of blinking red light at the top. Something like that was too big to ignore, so I grabbed an armload of equipment and jumped in the car.

The first thing I noticed was that I never got any closer to the mountain, no matter how far I drove. At first I passed this perception off as excitement and normal Night Vale time distortion. But then I started keeping track, and the mountain was actually maintaining its distance from me.

The second thing I noticed was the vast army that suddenly appeared in front of me.

I swerved off the road and nearly spun around to race back and warn the town when the static hit just right on the radio and a snatch of a song suddenly blared out, perfect and clear, before dissolving into white noise again. I slammed on the brakes.

The dust and sand billowed out, and drifted right through the army. They kept coming, and all I could do was sit there and watch them march around me... and through me, which was strange.

_'Here's something odd,' Cecil had said when he discovered the floating cat in the men's room._

And all it was all I could do not to collapse in a fit of (slightly deranged) laughter over the steering wheel right there in the middle of the army, because yet again, it was Night Vale presenting something horrifying that was actually harmless.

Well, harmless to me. To my car. Apparently not harmless to the other intangible army marching from the other direction. It actually got quite bloody. It may be a bit morbid, but I got out to study the phenomenon going on around me. The soldiers hacked each other to bits. They were aware of me, but couldn't touch me. I don't think they saw me as clearly as I saw them, because while some of them were careful to avoid me (or that one who was trying his hardest to chop of my head), many of them just walked right through me. I mainly made notes, because they didn't show up in photos (nor did the mountain, as I suspected). But I managed to communicate with one especially perceptive warrior.

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

The man looked at me, his face broad and foreign, though I couldn't quite place the nationality. In my own voice, he said, "I'm a mirage, obviously." Then he rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

Apparently my own subconscious mind is especially adept at making me feel like an idiot.

The mirage army began to dissipate one by one, until it was just the man I had spoken to, and the rather hazy mountain and floodplain in the background.

"You cannot trust your senses," said the man, still in my own voice.

I felt strange talking to... a mirage who spoke with my voice, so I just stared until he vanished.

The mirage reappeared twice in the rest of the week, and two to five times in each subsequent week. I made a note of time, duration, and different details I noticed.

"Did you see the mirage today?" I asked John Peters (you know, the farmer – damn it Cecil, that's not necessary every time) in the checkout line at the Ralph's.

"What?" He looked at me blankly. Not the way he would if I were talking about something I shouldn't be, or something that had been forcibly reeducated out of him (and I've grown to recognize the difference), but with a genuine lack of understanding. When I haltingly explained, he seemed upset – no, concerned. Concerned, because his imaginary corn harvest was due to yield a bumper crop this year, and a whole mirage army could go through his imaginary corn like a swarm of porcelain termites through a steel beam. I didn't quite get the metaphor, but I understood his meaning.

This is the kind of thing I can't mention to my superiors back home. There is so much of that these days. And they want answers, always answers, and they just have no idea what I'm in the middle of here.

So my team and I found ourselves back at the house that doesn't exist in the Desert Creek housing development.

They're... kind of a weird bunch. This batch of them. ...Well, I'll be honest, all of them have been. Before they... left or died or disappeared or... whatever. Three of them met me at the house (the fourth wouldn't listen to me when I told her last week not to acknowledge the Shape in Mission Grove Park). They were all from Night Vale Community College's science department. That made me hopeful that they would survive, or at least not run away screaming. Unfortunately, they are here interning with me. I thought it was just the radio station interns that had such a poor survival rate, but Cecil says that's the nature of any internship here. Or just... life, for that matter.

Therese is graying (her whole body, not just her hair), and eternally cheerful. Manuel is young and naïve and sometimes sweats blue liquid when under extreme stress. And Iche is a small bright red desert lizard who can float up to five feet in the air. I honestly had my doubts about her usefulness in the lab, but she's proven herself to have sound judgment.

We stood there staring at the house that didn't exist.

"Okay, we're definitely gonna do it today!" Manuel couldn't stop grinning.

"Excuse me, WHO is going to do it?"

"It would have to be our fearless leader," replied Therese. "Go ahead, sir."

"I can't believe you're in on this," I grumbled. They only call me 'sir' when they want something they know I'm not likely to give them.

"I'm sure Manuel will go if you're afraid of what you might find," Therese shot back.

"Wait, I never said I'd go!"

Iche flicked her tail and waved her front claws.

"Not for five dollars. Not ten. I'm not doing it. NONE of us are. We're here to take readings and gather data, not to pull dangerous pranks."

Iche made a small rattling noise.

"He WOULD have less gray hair if he had some fun sometimes," Therese agreed.

I tried to smooth my hair down to cover the gray. "That is NOT something that needs to be discussed. I'm not doing it, and neither are any of you. And frankly, I... I won't stand for this breach of scientific integrity. I need you to treat this with the gravity it deserves. Think of your careers as scientists. Think of your lives! This could be extremely dangerous! I don't want to hear any more about it."

Movement caught my eye, and suddenly there was a young woman coming out of the house, talking on her cell phone. Of course we ran over to her, because how often do random women run out of houses that don't exist? She looked panicked – no, not panicked, concerned. I had to blink a few times to tell the difference. She didn't respond to any of us, and then... she ran right through us. As if we weren't there.

Manuel screamed and Therese covered her mouth. Iche looked interested. What I noticed that the faint sound coming from her phone was Cecil's voice. And sure enough, when I whipped out my phone and called the first number in my contacts list, it was busy.

Iche chirred softly, eyeing me.

"Well who else am I supposed to call? She's talking to him, you heard it too!"

"I heard it," Manuel said loyally.

"Thank you!"

"Maybe you should try again later."

"I think I will. In the meantime, let's get out of here. Nobody's knocking on any doors."

I managed to reach Cecil a few minutes later, and described the series of events to him.

"...And you didn't knock on the door?"

"What? No, of course not! Why would I? It goes completely against my survival instinct!"

"Sure, it's just... Five dollars is a taco lunch at Jerry's Tacos."

"Cecil, I won't sell out my scientific integrity for a cheap lunch."

"Cheap? Whatever, rich guy."

"That's not – Cecil, I don't want to end up in another dimension, or release some ancient horror, or unmake existence. Or whatever it would end up doing. I'm just not comfortable with that. If it makes you feel better, I wouldn't let my lab team do it either. ...Not that they really wanted to. And I do NOT want you or one of your interns going anywhere near the house either."

The line was quiet for a moment.

"Cecil. Don't."

"...That was Dana you saw," he said quietly. "Dana. She's... she's out there somewhere, Carlos. That house has something to do with where she is."

We were both silent, collecting our thoughts.

"...Cecil, I'll try to investigate this safely. I'll do what I can to help her. But PLEASE don't go near that house."

"I care about her, Carlos. She's... she's a good friend."

"I understand. And I give you my word that I'll try to help her. But I care about YOU, and I need you to promise not to do anything that could get you hurt, including going to the house that doesn't exist."

"I... I have to go, Carlos, the prerecorded segment is ending."

"Promise me, Cecil."

"...I promise. For now."

"No."

"Okay, okay, I promise!"

"Good. I promise I'll help. See you later."

I continued to study the intermittent mirages, which after listening to Cecil's full broadcast again I decided are probably connected to wherever Dana is. Scientifically impossible, but obviously real in some way anyway. My notes are scattered, but I know that a door in the Dog Park connects to the House that Doesn't Exist (does this have a connection to other things that 'don't exist' such as angels? Possible). And John Peters – yes, the farmer – is somehow involved. I haven't seen him lately, so I can only assume he is still in the house. Could his imaginary corn be involved? Sometimes I feel like this is a job for a fantasy author, or an expert in ancient religions, more than a scientist. Or Cecil.

I invited him to the lab one evening to show him what I'd found and deduced, to see what he thought of it all. He brought over a bag of Jerry's Taco's, wrapped up and still hot, and I realized I hadn't eaten all day.

"You've been working hard," Cecil observed, watching me devour the tacos over piles of papers.

"Mmph." After that comment he made to the whole town about my chewing, I've been trying to make it quieter. It's not like I didn't know before. My dad used to tell me the same thing, only he'd suddenly slam his hand down on the table and shout that we were INSIDE, dammit, and couldn't I learn some manners, and what was wrong with me!?

Yeah.

Funny how little things like that can come back and hit you in the face out of nowhere after so long.

God, I tried so hard. I stopped eating crunchy foods, as much as I could. I worked on it. I got better. I guess I just forgot, living alone for so long.

Cecil's not like that, though. He talks about it like he'd talk about... I don't know, my teeth or the gray in my hair. I know he's not malicious, and it's not a relationship-breaking flaw that I need to destroy if I ever want any hope of being liked in this world. I know that.

It's just like when he would call me perfect and beautiful on the radio (which I finally convinced him to stop – mostly). It's something... that I have to accept. It's not a bad thing.

Okay, enough of my neuroses.

So when we were finished eating (and I didn't realize until we were done that I'd eaten probably 75% of the food – great, Carlos, way to be perfect) we ended up talking about interns. He told me how he was afraid to get to know his interns anymore, and he was SO afraid for Dana, because he'd grown attached to her. I told him after the third lab team vanished into the desert, I had been trying to do the same thing. But... but I couldn't. And it hurt every time, and I was trying SO hard to keep my current team safe. And we didn't even talk about mirages or mountains or John Peters.

"Thanks for coming over. And... for the tacos. Sorry I... ate them all," I said as I walked Cecil to the door. I think he would have liked to stay. If he had asked, I think I would have said yes. But he didn't, and neither did I.

He smiled and rubbed my arm lightly. "I brought them for you. I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself!"

"I know. I just get so caught up in my work..."

"I know." His eyes were a clear blue-green today, and they sparkled just then. "But there are more important things than science."

"Like what?" I laughed a little. He's just so easy to relax with.

"Like you." He suddenly leaned in and kissed me right between the eyes, and I felt that magnetic pull that I always felt around him.

"Cecil... Would you come by Sunday after your show?" I said impulsively. "I'd... I'd like to cook you dinner."

Cecil stilled, and turned back to me. "Really?"

"Yes. There... there ARE more important things."

"Carlos, that sounds absolutely perfect!"

It took... a while. Longer than I meant for it to take. Things just kept coming up, and they needed my attention. But finally we set a date and I cleared my schedule. As I cooked, I listened to Cecil's show. He texted me about the mirage – which I remembered that I had forgotten to mention – and I shot back something about learning to put other things first. When he repeated my message on air, he sounded so pleased, even SMUG. Well. That's just Cecil, I'm discovering. He's more than just furry pants and a love-struck grin.

He's awfully cute, either way.

God, I'm worse than he is.

Dinner was ready when he got home. ...I mean my home. I mean... it's... well he's here a lot, actually. He comes over for all kinds of reasons. I go to his apartment too. It's nicer than mine. Anyway.

I made pan-fried potatoes and green chili stew, pork tenderloin, and jello with fruit in it (when the custard I attempted vanished suddenly). I wanted to make garlic bread too, but the gluten-free bread doesn't really take well to that. Not to mention everything at the Ralph's bakery section this week kept twitching. I decided it wasn't worth it.

"Ohhh, Carlos, that smells heavenly!" Cecil sighed as he came up behind me.

I turned and smiled and tried to think of something smart to say. Everything sounded trite in my head. But we sat down to eat, and managed to have a decent conversation eventually. Almost entirely devoid of science or Night Vale politics and gossip (he hates it when I call it gossip). It lasted until long after dark. And it was... nice, you know? Even though I forgot the Jello. That's okay, I think the fruit probably wasn't good. But Cecil was here, and honestly, I wouldn't wish for anything more. He seemed fairly content with the situation as well.

I think I'm going to make a point to put aside science more often. That incredible voice might be on the radio often enough, but it's nothing compared to being here, like this, together.

That... that sounds stupid.

I don't think I care.


End file.
